2019 Scholems Views On Art
2019 Scholems Views On Art
2019 Scholems Views On Art
Edited by
Mirjam Zadoff
Noam Zadoff
leiden | boston
Part 1
The Researcher: Jewish Mysticism
3 For the Sake of a Jewish Revival: Gershom Scholem on Hasidism and Its
Relationship to Martin Buber 40
Shaul Magid
Part 2
Philosophical Context, Literary and Cultural
Connections
Part 3
Biographical Portraits
Part 4
The Librarian, Book Collector and Library Owner
13 Spiritual Sources for Zion: Gershom Scholem and the Salvage of Looted
Books and Manuscripts after the Holocaust 272
Elisabeth Gallas
Index 323
Batsheva Goldman-Ida
Abstract
Focusing on Gershom Scholem’s time in Berlin and on his interchange with Walter
Benjamin regarding the painting by Paul Klee known as Angelus Novus (1920), I will
discuss Scholem’s ideas and exposure to art. I will also examine the application of
Scholem’s methodology to art history research.
Keywords
Anatole France – Angelus Novus – artwork – Boris Aronson – Carl Gustav Jung – Erich
(Chiram) Brauer – Friedrich Adler – Jacob and the Angel – kabbalah – Karl Kraus –
Paul Klee – Trude Krulik – Walter Benjamin
This essay traces Gershom Scholem’s significant encounters with art from
the sophisticated urbane style of the artwork in the satiric Zionist journal Die
Blauweisse Brille (The Blue and White Spectacles), which he initiated and edited
from 1915–1916; his early ideas on Cubism and Judaism; and the cutting-edge
Art Deco synagogue interior of the radical splinter group of the Blauweisse that
Scholem mentored—the Jung-Juda (Young Judea; later known as the Marken-
hof Group)—designed in 1919 by Art Deco master craftsman Friedrich Adler
(1878–1942), to the interplay of poetry, prose, and interpretation of Paul Klee’s
(1879–1940) Angelus Novus (1920) with Walter Benjamin (1892–1940), and the
mystical drawings of Trude Krulik (1900–1976) in his home in Jerusalem.
The Blau-Weiss (Blue-White) group was the leading Zionist youth organiza-
tion of Germany in Berlin in the early nineteenth century. Scholem’s criticism
A rare, direct reference by Scholem to Judaism and art is found in his diaries.
Dated 31 August 1917, the entry was written following a visit to an exhibition of
the Franz Werner Kluxen Collection at the avant-garde Sturm Gallery in Berlin.
1 Die Blauweisse Brille, edited by Erich Brauer and Gerhard Scholem, 1 (August 1915): n. p.
2 Dr. Erich (Chiram) Brauer later immigrated to Israel and became a noted ethnographer of
Jews from Yemen and Kurdistan. His collection is at The Israel Museum on permanent loan
from the Jerusalem Ethnographic Society. See Brauer, Ethnologie der Jemenitischen Juden; and
Brauer, The Jews of Kurdistan.
3 See Simplicissimus at http://www.simplicissimus.info/.
4 See “Tristan Tzara. Vingt-Cinq Poèmes. Illustrated by Jean Arp. Zurich: Collection Dada,
1918,” The University of Iowa Libraries. Accessed 12 May 2017, http://sdrc.lib.uiowa.edu/dada/
Vingt_Cinq/.
Among the exhibited works that caught Scholem’s eye was the now-famous
Cubist work Woman Playing the Violin (1911) by Pablo Picasso (Fig. 9.7):5
After discussing Picasso’s work, we find a surprising comment:
Jewish art depends not on likenesses but on rigid, thick lines. Jewish art
resists the creation of new forms and seeks mathematical-metaphysical
knowledge. The Jewish image of man must be Cubist.6
This very interesting statement could be continued with a discussion about the
architectural structure of the Holy of Holies in the Solomonic Temple, which
is a perfect cube and which measured 20 cubits in height, length and width.7
Artists Issachar Ber Ryback (1897–1934) and Boris Aronson (1898–1980) of the
Kultur-Lige group later claimed that “only through the principle of abstract
painting, which is free of any literary [figurative] aspects, can one achieve one’s
own national formal expression [i.e., Jewish Art].”8
5 Berlin: Sturm Gallery, exhibition no. 54, August 1917: Sammlung Kluxen [V. Benes, G. Braque,
C.D. Carra, M. Chagall, A. Derain, E. Filla, A. Gleizes, W. Gimmi, E. Heckel, H. Huber, A. v.
Jawlensky, W. Kandinsky, E.L. Kirchner, O. Kokoschka, F. Léger, A. Macke, F. Marc, J. Metz-
inger, M. Pechstein, P. Picasso].
6 Scholem, Notebook 2, 31 August 1917. In Scholem, Lamentations of Youth, 179f.; cf. Gershom
Scholem Tagebücher, Vol. 2, 1917–1923, 33–34, n. 56. Thanks to Samuel Ackerman, Paris, for
our first discussion on this topic, and Zvi Leshem, Jerusalem, for his helpful assistance. On
Scholem’s discussion of Picasso with Walter Benjamin regarding the use of colorlessness in
Cubism, see Bourneuf, Paul Klee, 67–82.
7 i Kings, 6: 20; ii Chronicles 3:8; see also Ezekiel 41:4 (Ezekiel’s vision of the Third Temple).
8 Ryback and Aronson, “Di Vegn Fun der Yidisher Moleray,” 114. See also Móricz, Jewish Identi-
ties, 90, n. 70, who references their essay.
Scholem’s remarks on art and Judaism from his early years open up new
avenues of research, which can examine these remarks in the context of how
he understood the concepts of Zion and Torah at the time.
Scholem, critical of cultural Zionism and the “social club” nature of the Zionist
Blauweiss movement, joined the splinter group Jung Juda (Young Judea), and
influenced its members, later known as the Markenhof Group, to commit to
studying Hebrew and Judaism, and to immigrate to Eretz Israel (Land of Israel).
As one member, Benjamin Porath (Freund), remarked in a personal interview:
“We were a new generation in the Zionist Movement, espousing new slogans
and claims: knowledge of Hebrew, speaking Hebrew, and immigration to
Eretz-Israel.”9
Many members of the Markenhof Group were young professionals and
students from Central and Eastern Europe who had rebelled against their
parents (Fig. 9.10). Although Scholem did not join the group in Markenhof, and
immigrated to Israel in 1923, the members were guided by him and his tenets.
Of all the German hachshara (agricultural training) groups, the only one to
actually found a Kibbutz in Israel was the Markenhof Group, which started
Kibbutz Beit Zera in 1927.10
The interior of their synagogue reflects a sensibility to the cutting-edge
art of the period, a sensibility which Scholem shared. He was not, however,
directly involved in its design as far as we know. The synagogue was designed
by Art Deco master Friedrich Adler, who was at the forefront of the move
from Jugendstil (the German Art Nouveau) to the Art Deco movement. His
decorative art was discussed in 1913 by the noted art historian Paul Westheim
(1886–1963) in terms of the Neue Sachlichkeit (New Objectivity).11 In 1914,
Adler had designed a total synagogue interior for the innovative Deutscher
Werkbund exhibition in Cologne. The Deutscher Werkbund was an arts and
crafts association that preceded the Bauhaus School.12
The synagogue design for a room on the second floor of the Marken-
hof site was commissioned by Konrad (Elchanan) Goldmann (1872–1942), a
9 Personal interview with Hannah Weiner, 20 March 1975, Beit Zera. See Weiner, Noʿar
t ossess, 95–96, n. 2.
10 Weiner, Noʿar tossess, 94. See also Frankenstein, “Hachshara im Markenhof,” 123–139.
11 Westheim, “Friedrich Adler—Hamburg,” 234–247.
12 Goldman-Ida, Friedrich Adler, 113 and illustration opposite 118.
The work Angelus Novus (1920) by Paul Klee (1879–1940) (Fig. 9.12) was
acquired by Walter Benjamin in Munich in May 1921, and Scholem took
care of it occasionally and composed a poem on the work for Benjamin’s
birthday in 1921. In 1932, Benjamin bequeathed the work to Scholem. At one
13 “One of his brothers lived on the farm. He learned in the little synagogue that Konrad
Goldmann had built.” Ernst Fraenkel, Memoirs, 1985, unpublished manuscript transcribed
from audio tape (English), on Markenhof: tapes 100–101, pp. 122–137; tape 100, side 1, p. 122
(courtesy Raphael Fraenkel, Kibbutz Beit Ha’Emek.) Ernst Fraenkel was a member of the
Markenhof Group.
14 Letter to Meir Dizengoff from Hermann Struck in German, dated 17 November 1931. The
Tel Aviv Rabbinate authorized the donation in a landmark decision to Mayor Meir Diz-
engoff saying that the museum should be considered as a genizah (repository for sacred
objects) and that, as such, it could receive the synagogue windows. In a letter to Meir
Dizengoff from Konrad Goldmann, dated 17 May 1932, Goldmann had requested confir-
mation that it was permissible to donate a synagogue window to a museum, wondering
whether it perhaps should go to the Great Synagogue of Tel Aviv, which was just then
being completed. Dizengoff, in response, asked the Tel Aviv Rabbinate for a legal opinion,
and it ruled that a museum is considered a genizah, a repository for sacred books and
objects (letter to Konrad Goldmann from Meir Dizengoff dated 31 August 1932). All let-
ters are from the Historical Archive of the Tel Aviv Museum of Art, File “Correspondence
regarding the Founding of the Museum, 1931–1932.” See Goldman-Ida, Friedrich Adler,
108–105 [English side].
stage, Benjamin took it out of the frame. During the war, it was kept at the
Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris with the help of Georges Bataille (1897–1962).
Scholem received it after 1940, and on Scholem’s death his wife presented it to
the Israel Museum in Jerusalem.
The discussion surrounding the artwork begins with Scholem’s 15 July 1921
poem (see Appendix),15 which appears to be responding to a personal and di-
rect mystic experience that Scholem had. Then, in a 1931 essay on Karl Kraus
(1874–1936), Benjamin uses the angel in a satanic context. This is followed by
Benjamin’s Saturnic or melancholy prose on the artwork in his diary on two
consecutive days in August 1933. Much later, Benjamin uses part of Scholem’s
poem to introduce Section ix of the 1940 Theses on the Philosophy of History or
On the Concept of History, in which he elaborates on the angelic image as the
“Angel of History.”
By following Scholem’s poem and the four texts of Benjamin’s over time,
along with Scholem’s interpretation, we take part in a changing appreciation
of Klee’s Angelus Novus. Our perception of the angel subtly changes from that
of a violent aggressor, indeed equated with Satan, to a heavenly creature seek-
ing happiness, and then to an Angel of History on a mission. Scholem discusses
this change in perception: “The wings become then ‘wings of patience,’ which
resemble the wings of the angel that are open in Klee’s picture, in that they
maintain themselves with a minimum of exertion…. He has been pushed for-
ward from the future and goes back into it…. In the final version, the way of the
return home is no longer the flight into the Utopian future, which, rather, has
disappeared here…. Only later, does the angel become the ‘Angel of History.’”16
We shall begin with the notion of the angel as satanic as it first appears in
Benjamin’s 1931 essay on Karl Kraus:
Neither purity nor sacrifice mastered the demon; but where the origin
and destruction come together his rule is over. Like a creature sprung
from the child and the cannibal, his conqueror stands before him; not a
new man; a monster, a new angel. Perhaps one of those who, according to
the Talmud, are at the same moment created anew in countless throngs,
and who, once they have raised their voices before God, cease and pass
into nothingness. Lamenting, chastising, or rejoicing? No m
atter—on this
evanescent voice the ephemeral work of Kraus is modeled. Angelus—
that is the messenger of the old engravings.17
15 See n. 5 above.
16 Scholem, “Walter Benjamin and His Angel,” 2257.
17 Benjamin, “Karl Kraus,” 457.
Did Rainer Maria Rilke (1875–1926), who opens the Second Elegy of his
Duino Elegies (1923) by describing angels as schrecklich (terrible), influence
Benjamin’s notion?
Certainly, Benjamin was familiar with Rilke, as was Klee. Benjamin met Rilke
in Munich in 1915, and it is likely that he was aware of the Elegies, which were
published in 1923, and that he could dialogue with them, as did Klee.19 All three
were together in Munich in 1905 (along with Martin Buber). Yet neither the
philosopher nor the artist had a direct, documented connection to the poet.
According to S.D. Chrostowska, “behind [Rilke’s] lament lies the split human
consciousness, our position between angelic transcendence and animal natu-
ralness/openness of pure being, which deprives subjective experience of unity
and flow.”20
Scholem does not introduce Rilke into the discussion of Angelus Novus,
although he was also familiar with him as attested to by a letter of his to
Benjamin.21 Other relevant figures of the period who could shed light on the
wider context of Benjamin’s texts and of Klee’s artwork include Anatole France
(1884–1924), whose book La Révolte des Anges (The Revolt of the Angels; 1914),
Klee had a well-worn copy of, and which Scholem had written to Benjamin
about.22
18 Rilke, Duino Elegies, 39. See “Rainer Maria Rilke, The Duino Elegies,” trans. A.S. Kline, Po-
etry in Translation, accessed 12 May 2017, http://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/
German/Rilke.htm#_Toc509812216.
19 See Luprecht, On Angels, 7071, n. 36.
20 Chrostowska, “Angelus Novus,” 49, 50, n. 24.
21 “Two volumes of Rilke’s letters also found their way into my hands en passant, and they
have moved me profoundly.” Letter from Gershom Scholem to Walter Benjamin dated 11
April 1934, in Smith, The Correspondence of Walter Benjamin and Gershom Scholem, 1932–
1940, 104.
22 Ibid., 66f., nn. 26–28.
Beatrice Hanssen connects the Kraus essay with Benjamin’s later references
to the Angelus Novus:
The Kraus essay now accented the destructive nature of Klee’s angel.…
Klee’s angel suddenly revealed its other, dark side, that of an animal-
like predatory angel (Raubengel; consuming angel) equipped with
claws.… Not only the claws but also the predatory nature of the angel
point ahead to the fragment Agesilaus Santander, which Benjamin wrote
two years after completing the Kraus study during his exile on Ibiza [in
1933]…. Initially, it is tempting to see in Benjamin’s angel a version of
Nietzsche’s Übermensch (Higher Being), along lines similar to Heidegger’s
interpretation of the angel that appears in Rilke’s Duino Elegies. …At the
same time, it must be noted that Benjamin carefully distinguished the
Unmensch from the hedonism of Nietzsche’s Übermensch who was to
overcome the “Krankheit Mensch” (the illness of being human).23
Now let us look at the first of the two diary entries that Benjamin wrote in Au-
gust 1933 while fleeing to Ibiza from Paris. There he refers to the work Angelus
Novus as Agesilaus Santander, which Scholem deciphered as an anagram for
Der Angelus Santanas (The Angel Satan). In the first notation, which Benjamin
writes on 12 August 1933, “he pulls him along on that flight [Flucht] into a future
from which he has advanced. He hopes for nothing new from the latter except
the view of the person he keeps facing. So I journeyed with you, no sooner than
I had seen you for the first time, back from whence I came.”24
In the second notation, written the next day, on 13 August 1933, the angel
becomes more aggressive; the violent aspect of the figure is mentioned, that is,
its claws and its knife-sharp wings:
His image falls away when the name becomes audible. He loses above all
the gift of appearing anthropomorphist. In the room I occupied before he
stepped out of my name, armored and encased, into the light, [and] put
up his picture on the wall: [the] New Angel…. resembles all from which
I have had to part: persons and above all things. In the things I no longer
have, he resides…. Indeed, perhaps the angel was attracted by a gift
giver who goes away empty-handed. For he himself, too, who has claws
and pointed, indeed knife-sharp wings [,] does not look as though he
would pounce on the one who [he] has sighted. He fixes his eyes on him
firmly—[for] a long time, then yields by fits and starts but incessantly.
Why? In order to pull him along with himself that way into the future on
which he came and which he knows so well that he traverses it without
turning around and letting the one he has chosen out of view.25
Then in his Theses on the Philosophy of History (1940), Benjamin speaks of An-
gelus Novus in terms of an iconic image, the “Angel of History,” prefacing his
remarks with an excerpt from that early birthday poem by Scholem:
25 Benjamin, Selected Writings, Vol. 2: 1927–1934, 714. See also Scholem, On Jews and Judaism
in Crisis, 204–208.
26 Benjamin, “Theses on the Philosophy of History,” 259. Translation taken from https://
www.marxists.org/reference/archive/benjamin/1940/history.htm.
Angel is not able to turn away from. The opposing view, that of Jewish
mysticism, is the belief that according to the kabbalah it is not the angel’s
responsibility to make whole the catastrophe of history; it is the Mes-
siah’s responsibility.27
5 The Motif of Jacob and the Angel—Paul Klee and Walter Benjamin
Paul Klee created more than fifty images of angels, especially in the last years
of his life. His final work Ohne Titel (Untitled) (Composition on a Black Ground;
1940) (Fig. 9.14) includes on the lower left an image corresponding closely to
a pencil sketch made that same year—Engel, Noch Hässlich (Angel, Still Ugly;
1940) (Fig. 9.15). This image has been interpreted by Will Grohmann (1887–
1968) as that of Jacob and the Angel.30 The same intertwining of figures, indi-
cating a merging of identities between angel and man, is found in a graphic
rendering drawn by Kate Baer-Freyer of Jacob and the Angel that Scholem
had included in his journal Die Blauweisse Brille in 1916 (Fig. 9.16). Both artists
sought to express visually in their versions of Jacob and the Angel the ambigu-
ity of the epic struggle in the biblical narrative.
A reference to Jacob and the Angel was also made by Scholem in describing
Benjamin’s ties to Klee’s Angelus Novus. Scholem seems to foreshadow Klee’s
own sense of identity with Jacob and the Angel in his last work Ohne Titel
(1940) (see Fig. 9.14). Here is Scholem connecting the angel in the biblical tale
to Satan:
There are many parallels between Benjamin and Klee: the notion of secrecy,
of a secret name; the notion that the angel is not successful in fulfilling its
mission; the overall background of World War i and its ramifications; and the
fact that both men related the angel to death and destruction, equating it with
nihilism.… So I arrived at the intention of writing not the history but the
metaphysics of the Kabbalah…. [To penetrate] the misty wall of history …
an illusion without which in temporal reality no insight into the essence
of things is possible. My work lives in this paradox.37
Actually the six-pointed star is not a Jewish symbol; a fortiori it could not
be the “symbol of Judaism.” It has none of the criteria that mark the na-
ture and development of the true symbol. It does not express any “idea,” it
does not arouse ancient associations rooted in our experiences, and it is
not a shorthand representation of an entire spiritual reality, understood
immediately by the observer. It does not remind us of anything in Biblical
or in rabbinic Judaism.42
41 Scholem, Greetings from Angelus (Paul Klee, Angelus Novus), to W.B, on 15 July 1921 (see
Appendix). In Scholem, The Fullness of Time. For the whole text, see BOMB Magazine,
“Three Poems.”
42 Scholem, “The Curious History of the Six-Pointed Star,” 243.
Appendix
Greetings from Angelus
(Paul Klee, Angelus Novus)
by Gerhard Scholem
Figure 9.1 Unknown Artist, Martin Buber, Berlin, 1915, Die Blauweisse Brille, 1 (August 1915),
edited by Erich [Chiram] Brauer and Gerhard Scholem.
(Photo: Courtesy of the National Library of Israel, Jerusalem).
Figure 9.2 Kate Baer-Freyer, Königen von Saba (The Sabbath Queen), Berlin, 1916, Die
B
lauweisse Brille, 3 (January 1916), edited by Erich Brauer and Gerhard Scholem.
(Photo: Courtesy of the National Library of Israel, Jerusalem).
Figure 9.3 Wassily Kandinsky (1866–1944), vignette next to Chapter i. “Einleitung” (Introduc-
tion) from Über das Geistige in der Kunst: Insbesondere in der Malerei (Concerning
the Spiritual in Art: Especially in Painting), Munich: R. Piper & Co., 1911, woodcut,
9.9 × 4 cm. New York, Collection Museum of Modern Art, Gift of Lucien Gold-
schmidt, 324.1958.3.
(Photo: Courtesy of the Museum of Modern Art, New York).
Figure 9.4 Jean Arp (1886–1966), Mouvement, illustration for Vingt-cinq poèmes by Tristan
Tzara, Zurich: Collection Dada, 1918, woodcut, 19.5 × 13.5 cm. Tel Aviv, Collection
Tel Aviv Museum of Art, Gift of Charles and Evelyn Kramer, New York, through the
American Friends of the Tel Aviv Museum, 90.32.6. © 2018, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn.
(Photo: ©Tel Aviv Museum of Art, by Elad Sarig).
Figure 9.5 Erich (Chiram) Brauer (1895–1942), Simson + Delila (Samson and Delilah), Berlin,
1916, Die Blauweisse Brille, 3 (January 1916), edited by Erich (Chiram) Brauer and
Gerhard Scholem.
(Photo: Courtesy of the National Library of Israel, Jerusalem).
Figure 9.6 Karl Schmidt-Rotluff (1884–1976), Mädchen vor dem Spiegel (Woman in Front of
a Mirror), 1914, Berlin: Graphisches Kabinett J.B. Neumann, 1919, woodcut, 49.8 ×
39.9 cm. New York, Museum of Modern Art, Committee on Prints and Illustrated
Books Fund in honor of Joanne M. Stern, 129.2012. ©2018, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn.
(Photo: Courtesy of the Museum of Modern Art, New York).
Figure 9.7 Pablo Picasso (1881–1973), La Femme au Violon, Spring 1911, oil on canvas, 92 × 65
cm. Private Collection, on long-term to the Bavarian State Painting Collections,
Pinakothek der Moderne, Munich. ©2018 Succession Picasso.
(Photo: Courtesy of the Pinakothek der Moderne, Munich).
Figure 9.8 Meir Katz Poppers (d. 1662), Ilan Aroch [Long Sefirot Scroll], Warsaw: A. Bomberg
Press, 1864 (detail), India ink, bronze ink on paper, letterpress, 519 × 24.5 cm. Tel
Aviv, gfc Trust, 028.011.033-011.
(Photo ©Ardon Bar-Hama).
Figure 9.9 Hayyim Vital (1542–1620), Sefer Etz Hayyim (Book of the Tree of Life), 18th century,
India ink on paper, Ashkenazi script, ink drawings. Formerly Jerusalem, Hechal
Shlomo, The Wolfson Museum of Jewish Art, Qu. 12, fol. 20v.
(Photo: Courtesy of the National Library of Israel, Jerusalem,
Microfilm F22570).
Figure 9.10 Jung-Juda Chalutzim (Young Judea Pioneers) at the Hachshara (Agricultural
Training Settlement), Markenhof Estate, Black Forest, Germany, c. 1919.
(Photo: Courtesy Theodora Efrat, Kibbutz Beit Zera).
Figure 9.11 Friedrich Alder, Twelve Tribes Window, Freiburg im Breisgau, 1919,
manufactured by Eduard Stritt, stained-glass, leaded, 6 two-part windows,
81 × 35.5 cm each. Tel Aviv, Collection Tel Aviv Museum of Art, Gift of Konrad
(Elchanan) Goldmann, Freiburg im Breisgau, 1932.
(Photo: ©Tel Aviv Museum of Art, by Daniel Sheriff).
Figure 9.12 Paul Klee (1879–1940), Angelus Novus, 1920, oil transfer and watercolor on
paper, 31.8 × 24.2 cm. Jerusalem, Collection The Israel Museum, Gift of Fania
and Gershom Scholem, Jerusalem, John Herring, Marlene and Paul Herring,
Jo-Carole and Ronald Lauder, New York, B87.0994.
(Photo: ©The Israel Museum, Jerusalem, by Elie Posner).
Figure 9.13 Isaiah’s Vision of The End of Days, reproduction of etching by A. Balzer,
probably Anton Balzer from Bohemia. Jerusalem, Gershom Scholem Library,
National Library of Israel.
(Photo: Batsheva Goldman-Ida).
Figure 9.14 Paul Klee (1879–1940), Ohne Titel (Letzes Stilleben), 1940,
Untitled (Last Still Life), 1940, oil on canvas, 100 × 80.5 cm. Bern,
Zentrum Paul Klee, Livia Klee Donation.
(Photo: Courtesy of Zentrum Paul Klee, Bern).
Figure 9.15 Paul Klee (1879–1940), Engel, noch hässlich, 1940, 26, Angel Still
Ugly, 1940, 26, pencil on paper on cardboard, 29.6 × 20.9 cm, Bern,
Zentrum Paul Klee, 26.
(Photo: Courtesy of Zentrum Paul Klee, Bern).
Figure 9.16 Kate Baer-Freyer, Jakobskampf ( Jacob and the Angel), Berlin, 1915, Die
Blauweisse Brille, 3 (January 1916), edited by Erich (Chiram) Brauer and
Gerhard Scholem.
(Photo: Courtesy of the National Library of Israel, Jerusalem).
Figure 9.17 Trude Krolik, Kabbalist or Author of the Zohar in His Youth [also known as
“Baal HaZohar” (“Master of the Zohar”)], 1940–1949, charcoal, 60 × 46 cm.
Jerusalem, Gershom Scholem Library, National Library of Israel, Gift of Fania
Scholem, Jerusalem.
Figure 9.19 Trude Krolik, The Jester, 1940–1949, pastel, 60 × 40 cm. Current whereabouts
unknown.
Works Cited
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Scholem, Gershom. On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism. Translated by Ralph
Mannheim. New York: Schocken, 1965.
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ḥalutz” be-germania. Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, 1996.
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gewandte Kunst 28 (1913): 234–247.